The Art of Werewolf Maintenance
by Hannah Abbott-Stewart
Summary: [WIP] - If Remus and Sirius were so different from one another how come the universe seemed only to draw them so closely together?
1. Prologue

**Friday, November First, 1974 7:23 A.M.**

There had been only one other time during the friendship of Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs that a blue moon had been nuisance enough to grace Moony with a visit, but at the time, Moony had still been hiding the terrible secret of his condition from his three best friends. So in their fourth year at Hogwarts, the morning following the blue moon and Halloween, Sirius awakes, still dressed in his pirate costume, thinking nothing of what horrible complications his second best friend had encountered the night previous. He simply kicks James affectionately in his shoulder, and James stands and stretches, the shirt of his military uniform rising just so that his hipbones sneak momentarily out of his trousers before he stands rightly and they slip back in. Peter, honed to James' body, awakes the instant James does, stands the instant James stands, and stretches less gracefully than James had managed. Peter's hipbones make Sirius think of ham, which makes him hungry. The three of them leave the room to find food, any food, and barely manage their way to the Great Hall without falling down forty-two flights of stairs. James is kind enough to carry Sirius the last three flights after Sirius' whining gets to be too much for him to handle.

Sirius stares at the pitcher of coffee sitting on the table and nurses a mug in both of his hands, willing the coffee to pour itself. James, sensing his wishes, pours the coffee dutifully. Three mugs later, Sirius is awake enough to pour his own. He honors the tradition of eating leftover candy for breakfast the morning after Halloween, but today all he would like is a nice rack of lamb and some garlic mashed potatoes. Instead, he eats a fistful of jellybeans and a chocolate bar that tastes vaguely of spiced rum. This gives him ideas for next Halloween, and he wonders just how many candy bars spiked with rum one would have to eat before getting drunk enough to do the Funky Chicken on the top of the Astronomy Tower. A devious smile plays on his lips, and James grins. Peter is too occupied with his croissant to bother.

Halfway through breakfast, Peter thinks to ask the question that no one else has even considered. "Where's Remus?"

James looks at the seat next to him as if Remus has been there all along. His friend's absence is hardly pressing at the moment. Remus has a habit of taking too long in the showers or tidying up the common room after parties such as last night's. He shrugs easily and steals a green jellybean—his favorite—from the First-Year sitting next to him.

Sirius goes through much of the same process of deduction concerning Remus' absence from the table. _If Remus sits next to James every morning, but is not sitting next to James this morning, then Remus is not at breakfast this morning. If Remus is not at breakfast this morning, where is Remus this morning during breakfast? _Thinking bores him because he knows that the day will be full of thoughts, although not necessarily thoughts about his lessons, so he sips another mug of coffee before posing the same question.

"Where's Remus?"

James frowns at the seat next to him and eats another green jellybean.

"No, but really, where's Remus?" Peter asks again. James throws a jellybean at Peter for no other reason than to occupy himself.

"He said he had to study last night. Did either of you see him come into the dormitory?"

Peter turns a subtle shade of pink as he recalls the entire decanter of Elderflower wine he hoarded for the occasion and shakes his head. "I was feeling sick," he says. Technically, this isn't a lie, he was feeling sick, but that's only because he drank plenty of wine and got gloriously drunk. "Too much candy." Sirius and James look at each other as if to say, "What's new?"

"I didn't see him at the party," Sirius offers.

"He hates parties is why you didn't see him at the party. And you were drunk," James says to Sirius.

Sirius smiles fondly, remembering his own jug of liquor; his weapon of choice was spiced rum. He remembers now why the candy bars tasted of rum and wonders just how many students will show up to class with a slight buzz. He hopes more than a few.

"Not to mention you sneaked into the kitchen and poured spiced rum into the chocolate. I wonder if Dumbledore knows."

Remus is momentarily forgotten as the three boys look up to Dumbledore, who is chewing fondly on truffles. They notice that his eyes are slightly glazed over, and though none of them is a whiz at divination, they see detention in their future. Or possibly a pat on the back..

"McGonagall is eating the chocolate too," Peter says with a groan. There is no doubt now about the detentions.

"So where _is_ Remus?" Sirius asks, focusing more intently upon the seat next to James as if Remus will appear any moment.

"I didn't see him in the library last night when I went to talk to Lily, and I didn't see him at the party. I don't remember him coming to the dorm last night, and he's not at breakfast."

"Did Evans actually let you talk?"

"Well, I did get a 'hello' out before she suddenly remembered that her hair needed washing."

"At least she didn't kick you in the shins this time."

"I would have thought she would have gotten over this whole thing by now."

"You cut her ponytail off, James," Peter reminds him, unhelpful as usual.

"I was eleven at the time!" James shouts around a mouthful of green jellybeans.

"What a coincidence, so was she," Sirius mentions, picking a bit of green jellybean off of his shirt. Peter snickers, but he's not sure at who.

What follows is somewhat of a ritual. James punches Sirius. Sirius manages to get James in a headlock. James starts undoing Sirius' trousers so that he may properly de-trouser him in front of his adoring fans. Sirius makes a very rude comment and sweeps James' feet out from underneath him. James pulls Sirius pants down around his ankles. Sirius sits on James' head while looking around nonchalantly. James bites his ass, and Sirius jumps up with a screech. Peter's laughter is boisterous and unattractive as usual. The only part of the ritual missing is Remus, who should be sitting beside them with his nose in a book because of course he's much too mature to condone such horseplay.

"Okay, really, where is Remus?"

**Monday, November 4th, 1974 12:35 A.M.**

Sirius strokes the cursive R engraved into the leather cover of Remus' journal. James is curled up at his feet and drools into the couch cushion. Peter lies hunched over in the armchair nearest the hearth where the flames still rage enthusiastically. With enough light to read by, he opens the journal and reads the entry for the 31 of October, 1974:

_"I suppose I'm not so much worried about changing twice in one month; I've done it before. Really, it's nothing monumental. It's just that since the onset of puberty the changes have been a bit more violent. I now pose a threat. It is now a competition between us to see who can catch the best tail. I am not saying that my thoughts are like this when I am in human flesh, but the minute I change I become a furball of hormones that are far out of my control. I never believed all of those myths that werewolves reach their sexual peak earlier than human males. It always seemed so outrageous for a boy of ten or eleven to be so ready for sex. I am just rambling. I guess I wish I had a choice in the matter. Just when I've become comfortable with who I am my lycanthropy gets in the way. Perhaps I'll someday find a cure for this affliction, but those that I've talked to seem to think that the only likely cure will ever be death. What optimists!"_

Sirius is almost embarassed by how intimate the entry is. Puberty is one of the unutterable words among boys; Sirius can scarcely hear the word "sex" without breaking into childish giggles. Even now he wants to laugh at Remus for making sex seem like some dire task, like cutting off the head of Hydra or Argus.

The portrait hole swings open just as Sirius' small laughs fade. He looks up hopefully and sees Remus standing in the entranceway looking bedraggled and bloody and bruised, his head bent so that his chin touches his naked chest. What looks like a claw mark extends from Remus' shoulder to his stomach. Remus falls to his knees and begins sobbing in great spasms. Sirius forgets the journal, leaps to his feet, and hurries over to him, not caring that he kicks James' head or trips over Peter's foot on the way. Remus looks smaller than ever, and he is the only person that Sirius cares for in that moment.

Sirius catalogs the scratches and bruises, noting with grim satisfaction that they all seem to be well on their way to healing. Except, that is, for the two large slashes across Remus' face.

He knows Remus has never been a vain person, but he understands now why Remus has been hiding his face. Remus knows that James and Sirius are vain people, always fussing over hair and clothes and looks, and the embarassment in Remus' eyes is obvious.

Then Remus is talking too quickly, explaining that the madness drove him to run nearly twenty miles away where he encountered a pack of werewolves who took an immediate disliking to him, the outsider, always the outsider, and one of them began slashing at him while another pushed him into a machinery shed belonging to a nearby farm. Remus is fumbling over syllables, trying to relay all of this information to a bewildered Sirius. And Remus says that he fought well, like a Gryffindor would, and he understands why he's in Gryffindor now, and he keeps saying "and". Sirius struggles to keep up, and finally tells Remus to shut up. Remus doesn't shut up, however. He keeps talking, says it took him three days to get back because he kept falling unsconcious in the most inconvenient places. When Sirius tells him to shut up again, Remus obeys.

He leads Remus to the couch, knowing very well that Remus could not make it up anymore stairs after that dilemma. Remus nods appreciatively and falls onto the sofa with his feet by James' head and his face pressed into the accomodating cushions. Sirius lays down next to him, intimately close. He pulls the gold and maroon afghan off of the back of the couch and tucks Remus in tightly before nuzzling his shoulder. "Sleep." Again, Remus obeys.

**Monday, November 4th, 1974 7:04 A.M.**

Gryffindors, both those who know James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin and thosewho do not, those who know that Remus Lupin has been missing for three days without so much as a mention of him from his friends or Dumbledore and those who know only that he is the best student in their year, come into the common room to find the three huddled together on the large couch in front of the glowing hearth. They cringe when they see Lupin's face and wonder aloud what happened to him, where has he been, why is he cuddling the two Boyest Boys that ever lived?

Some of them have the grace to be jealous, while others politely smile and wish that they were in the Boyest Boys club. One of the young Gryffindors remarks to his friends that if Peter Pettigrew can be considered a Boyest Boy then he has no understanding of why he cannot be one. His friend, a rather smart one at that, explains that someone within the group has got to be the designated Worshipper of the Boyest Boys, and they all nod and say "hmm" in a satisfied way.


	2. Chapter One

**Wednesday, September First, 1976 10:39 A.M**

Sirius stares over the table at the small, pale man whose shoulders hunch in a familiar way as he sips his tea and reads a book. He thinks that Mr. Lupin was probably very handsome before he lost his wife to the same creature that condemned his only son to a cursed life. Now he is simply a shell of that man, wearing a threadbare cardigan with an argyle pattern on its torn pocket and khakis that are much too short on him. 

James comes into the café with an armload of preariously stacked chocolates. Sirius stands and claps his best friend on the shoulder a little too enthusiastically. "Looking smashing as usual, Potter, and I see that you've spent all of your allowance on sweets again." 

Mr. Lupin looks up and smiles as if he quite understands the importance of spending seventeen galleons on sweets. "James, please tell me that you didn't let my son spend all of his money on books. I dare say the boy needs a taste for adventure that no amount of words can fulfil in him." 

"Oh, don't worry. He gets plenty of adventure running around with the lot of us. Unfortunately he's designated himself as damage control and usually fusses a lot over the condition of our clothes." 

"He has always had his mother's sense of adventure; that is to say that he has absolutely none at all." 

"We'll get him in loads of trouble this term, sir, with your permission," James says as he unwraps a chocolate with his teeth. 

"Well, nothing to jeopardize his becoming Head Boy, if you don't mind. He so has his heart set on that title." 

"No, nothing too drastic, sir. A few hapless pranks on unsuspecting bystanders and perhaps another _smashing_ Halloween party," Sirius grins as he says this, recalling with delight the past few Halloweens at Hogwarts. 

"Very well, but do take care of him as best you can. I sometimes think his mother's death was a bit too much for him to handle, and you boys have really made him a home at Hogwarts. Frightful bad luck he's got such an old drone as a father, you know?" 

Sirius knows that Mr. Lupin is not fishing for compliments. He honestly believes he is a bad father. Sirius had visited Remus' house once, and he remembers with an abysmal lack of affection how quiet life in the Lupin household was. 

"I mean, I raised him well enough, taught him to be polite and academic, but I can't give him the good memories he needs. I'm not the fun father I used to be, so I'm glad when he comes home from Hogwarts and tells me about the little shenanigans you lot have planned in between all that eating and studying." 

James begins working on his third bar of chocolate. Mr. Lupin excuses himself from the table and goes to the lavatory. Sirius frowns. 

"You know, I think that is the most we've ever heard about Moony before," he says. 

"You've read my mind," James concurs after he's swallowed another half of his chocolate bar. 

"Well, you heard the man, James. We have special permission from his father to get him into unmitigated mischief. Operation Viva El Moony to commence in T-Minus ten, seven, three, two, one…." 

At that moment, the bells on the door jingle and Moony walks in carrying an armful of tattered books. It seems that he has indeed spent all of his Sickles on books again, none of which look at all interesting to either James or Sirius. Remus looks up in time to see Sirius' smile spread in some insane, devious way. He looks left, then right, contemplating a dive headfirst out of the window of the café. 

Mr. Lupin comes out of the lavatory in time to save his horrified son. 

"Ah, Remus, you're back then. Here, drop your books in the satchel, and I'll put them in your room when I get home." 

Remus approaches his father with caution as if he's in on some conspiracy with the maniacal Mr. Black. When it is apparent that neither of them plans on doing anything horrible to him, he puts his books into the canvas book bag that belonged to his mother and sits down at the table. 

"We were just talking about you, Moony," Sirius says, gauging Remus' reaction. Remus, as a rule, does not talk of personal things with James and Sirius unless it involves his condition. If given his way, Remus wouldn't have even told them about his condition, but after they figured it out, it was not much use trying to keep it from them. 

Remus looks up at his father who is pointedly looking at anyone but his son. Remus wants to say something to break the uncomfortable silence that he knows he is responsible for, but he can think of no words to follow a confession like that. 

"You never mentioned that you wanted to be Head Boy," James says so that Sirius is not basking so dreadfully alone in Remus' dangerous look. The look eventually withers into nothing but a memory. 

Remus turns to look at his father with a smile glued to his features. "We should head over to the platform, Father. Will you be all right to get this stuff to the car, or shall I help?" 

"You three run along, then. I'm sure Peter is looking for you by now, and this old man has to get on to his gardening." 

"Gardening is for women, sir," Sirius says out of habit, and Remus shoots him a look that utterly murders him where he stands. 

"Well, yes, but I owe my wife at least that, to keep up her garden. She put a lot of effort into it before her death." 

"Do they like that, sir, when you do all that romantic hodgepodge like tend to their roses?" James is always grabbing at free relationship advice since he has been banned from writing to the love expert at _The Daily Prophet_ because of a nasty incident last fall. Remus half expects to see James pull a memo pad out of his jumper pocket and write down any notes. He can't imagine that he remembers anything he's told because he's still no closer to having at it with Lily than he was in first year. 

"Well, I don't pretend to be an expert on the matter, James," Mr. Lupin says as he fusses over Remus' collar and tie. "It's been twenty years or so since I've properly courted a woman, but I learned early on that they tend to like men better than they like boys—something about maturing earlier than our kind, you know?" James nods eagerly as he collects his trunk. 

Sirius is watching as Mr. Lupin shellacs the cowlicks in Remus' hair back with spit on his thumb. Sirius has always imagined a plump woman with graying hair performing this grooming, but he had just discovered that morning that Mrs. Lupin was killed when Remus was six. He has had his suspicions that she is no longer physically present in the family because Remus never mentions her, not even casually to say, "Oh, Mother hates it when I do this," but he never imagined that she is dead. 

The three of them leave Mr. Lupin to his tea as they walk in silence to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. Sirius means to say something, but he knows that he's just made angry a boy that never gets angry. _Perhaps it is not anger_, he thinks idly. He's seen this look before in fourth year when Remus came back after three days absence with his face scarred. _But, what has he got to feel ashamed about?_

They find Peter in the compartment that they usually share, and Remus sits down without so much as looking at Sirius. James is on the brink of saying something, and Remus waits for it, not admittedly fond of the tension between them. 

"Your father looked about ready to blow a fuse when we asked him where your mum was off at. We didn't know she was _dead_. You never told us." 

Remus should have expected this. Peter suddenly realizes that something is not right and looks embarrassed to find out that Remus' mother is deceased. Sirius is skulking in his seat by the window with his arms crossed and his head pressed against the glass. 

"You never bothered to—" 

"Oh, I dare you to finish that bloody sentence, Moony," Sirius barks, looking dangerous. 

Remus blinks and straightens his posture. "Are you _threatening_ me?" 

"No, but if you pull that whiny, you-never-bothered-to-ask shit on us, I swear I am going to punch your hideous face in." 

"Tell me it's not true, then, Padfoot." 

James tenses. He is not used to people arguing with Sirius. Conversations such as these are usually one-sided, with Sirius victorious in a heartbeat. It takes a suicidal man to engage in verbal disputes with Mr. Sirius Black. He and Peter suddenly 'remember' that there is someone they need to ask about homework and fumble over an explanation as they leave the compartment. 

"The last time we "bothered" to ask you something you never gave us an answer. And you spent the whole weekend reading horrible Muggle literature with your bed curtains drawn." 

"That still doesn't justify weaseling the answers from my father." 

"_Weaseling_? Is it considered _weaseling_ to try and get to know your best—" 

"James is your best friend. I'm only second best." He knows exactly how ridiculously bitter and immature he sounds. 

"—friend? We tell you everything, and you sit here with your secrets and your literature acting like it's a bloody crime to tell your mates anything personal." 

"Perhaps it is because you insult my lifestyle at every turn possible. _Oh, the perfect prefect, blah blah bloody blah! All he does is read. Doesn't ever go after the girls. Oh, look at shy little Remus, can't even ask a girl for a study date without blushing his scarred little head off._ Is there anything you can't find to insult about me?" 

It is a euphoric experience to get a rise out of Remus, bonus points if Sirius can get him to curse. He is very angry with Remus right now, but he takes a few moments to savor his perfect prefect cursing. 

"When you're acting like this, you pretty much open yourself up to insult, Moony. Stuff as important as your mother being murdered by the same thing that got you should be shared with the lot of us, if only so that we don't make complete fools of ourselves in front of your father." 

The word murder makes Remus cringe. He realizes that people are prone to viewing werewolves as murderers, but he would not like himself classified as one, not after the lengths he endures just so that he tears himself to shreds and no one else. 

Perhaps he feels that admitting that werewolves are capable of murder opens up the plausibility that he cannot always be so careful, that one day he might kill a woman and bite her son and run off without so much as a second glance. He is angry now, too, because he hates thinking about this. 

"Should we really bring mothers into this, Sirius? When is the last time you didn't go completely barking when your mother sent you a letter or an allowance? How about we discuss your lecherous cousins while we're at it and how insane you get when one of them so much as crosses your path?" 

"Moony, you're walking on very thin ice." 

"Well, then you can appreciate things from my point of view, can't you?" 

The both of them are like granite where they sit, cold and taut with energy. He can feel that familiar creature prowling on the outskirts of his subconscious, and it makes him quietly snarl as he clenches his fists at his sides. He feels on the brink of tears—he hates fighting with his best mate—but it really cannot be helped. The two of them are similar creatures, hounds at heart. He is sure that the hair on Sirius' neck is standing up, not unlike the hair on his own. 

"If you get to sit here and accuse me of holding things back, then it's only fair I get to bring in evidence against you." 

"Evidence? Am I a goddamned criminal, now?" 

Remus knows that he is about to say a very wrong thing, but he reasons that it will act as a valve on the tension between them so that they don't kill each other later on. Remus knows that this wrong thing will alienate him from all three of his friends for some time, how long he is not sure. He says it anyway, though, because he is tired of being the common little milquetoast too scared to stand up to his own best friend. This doesn't mean that he doesn't regret what he's about to say. 

"Christ, Sirius, you're acting just like that Slytherin cousin of yours." 

Sirius lunges out of his seat and grabs Remus around the shoulders. Minutes pass around them, but the both of them are frozen where they stand. Sirius snarls, and Remus punches him in the face. They growl and punch and bite and kick. The fight becomes very vague after Sirius hits him in the face—he just cannot concentrate. Moments later James and Peter scramble into the compartment and catch Sirius by the arms. 

Sirius lip is swollen, and Remus is sure that he is only partially responsible for the blood staining Sirius' lips. He touches his own face where he feels the blood trickling down his jaw. 

He hates that they seem to rewrite the laws of gravity whenever they are together. One minute they are the universe. One minute the whole world revolves around the four of them. The next Remus is Pluto, the cold, barren planet at the very end of their universe, and Sirius is never anything less than the sun. This amazes him greatly; it hurts him just as much. 

"Remus, why don't you go clean up and cool off," James says kindly. "Peter will bring your trunk up to the dormitory for you." 

Remus whispers thank you and leaves the compartment. He pushes past Lily, ignoring her startled look. He has no time for conversation. He holes himself in the lavatory and kneels in front of the toilet, his shoulders hunched and shuddering in rhythm with the tears that fall down his face. 


	3. Chapter Two

**Sunday, October 10th, 1976 12:32 A.M.**

Remus is sleeping on the four-poster tucked against the furthest wall in the only room of the Shrieking Shack. His hair falls in his face, and shadows dance across his scar in a way that Sirius can only think to describe as beautiful. Sirius does not want Remus to look beautiful right now, so he drops a brick of chocolate on Remus' head, prompting his mild-tempered counterpart to awake with a groan and cradle the bridge of his nose. Remus mutters a very muffled curse before he sees the brick of dark chocolate where his head lay seconds earlier.

A look of utter lust passes through Remus' eyes, an animal lust reserved for nights when the full moon is shining, and Remus is staring straight at Sirius, who trembles and drops the rucksack full of assorted sweets compliments of Honedukes. The look fades in a heartbeat as Remus designates himself stock clerk. James spills his rucksack full of candies onto the floor, followed by Peter, and Remus writes in dust on the ground as he catalogs each piece of candy.

"Not bad for your first go, really," Remus says quietly. "I do hope you covered your tracks well enough, though, because Honeydukes is bound to miss this load. Especially the chocolate. It's the finest in Scotland."

Sirius notes that Remus looks homicidally possessive of the chocolates and whispers to James and Peter, "For the sake of your limbs, mates, I'd advise not going anywhere near the chocolate until the werewolf has fallen asleep."

Peter gives Sirius a look that tries to be mutinous. He fails miserably and ends up looking resentful; that chocolate is rightfully his. But Remus is stroking one of the bricks absentmindedly as he counts the sweets. He writes a number corresponding next to each: six hundred forty-two lemon drops, one hundred eleven licorice wands, and sixty-six blood-flavored lollipops. James satisfies himself with a sherry flavored cinnamon cigarette in the holey, under-stuffed armchair and takes the Marauder's Map out of his pocket.

"This really is ingenious, Moony. One day you ought to tell us how you did it."

"I suppose today could be that day since you brought me three bricks of chocolate and never, ever plan on eating any of it," he says hopefully.

"If you tell us your secrets, the chocolate is yours to share at your leisure," James promises, much to Peter's dismay. "Oh, don't give us that face, Wormtail. Of course, he's going to share the bloody chocolate with us." Remus does not look so keen with this idea and heaves a sigh of resignation as he hands a brick of chocolate to Peter. "See, he's not selfish like we are."

Sirius smiles and sits right across from Remus. Sirius has always reserved this spot during story time because he figures that he'll somehow hear the story before the others if he is sitting directly across from the storyteller. Remus cracks his knuckles and begins speaking in a voice reserved for recounting grand Greek epics and lesser-revered Shakespearean works.

"The date was the tenth of June, right after O.W.L.S., when I overheard the son of a high-priority Auror talking very furtively to his friends. He described a new technology his dad had discovered while working in the Espionage Detection branch of the Auror headquarters in London. The technology basically routed certain security charms to bits of special parchment so that a person's identity could be determined just by using these security charms alone. Said his dad was very nearly made Minister of Magic for his contribution to our society. Of course, that load was a bit of rubbish, but I knew that if the technology of which he spoke really existed it was my duty to procure a bit of it for our own selfish needs."

James knows right away that Remus is scheming an elaborate lie on the spur of the moment—a symptom of reading too often and adventuring too little—but surprisingly, Sirius is enjoying the story far too much to realize its lack of credibility. Peter's attention is torn between Remus' dramatic monologue and a combination of orange liquor and melted chocolate.

"There was a bit of a twinge in my gut then. I knew that this was finally it, that all these years spent with you lot had finally decayed Good Boy Remus and turned him into a lawbreaker and a thief. I had half a mind to mourn for the other part of me, but I reminded myself just in time that thieves do not mourn their dead. They simply cast them out to sea never to return just like the Vikings did. So, I didn't even bother to say one last goodbye to that boy as I began planning Operation Yo Ho, thusly named due to my affection for that pirate carol sung by those who can only now be described as my kindred spirits."

Sirius scoots closer to Remus, staring at his friend as if he has suddenly become more interesting. James is letting Remus have his fun, hiding his laughter politely in the hem of his jumper. Remus smiles thankfully at him but knows not to expect any help when Sirius finds out that this story is a load of crap and beats Remus to a bloody pulp.

"Suddenly lacking propriety, I did not feel bothered when I invited myself to this Auror's household over holidays. A week later I was within grasp of what I so desperately sought and only had to invent a small fabrication about researching Aurors for a future line of work. The Auror believed me in a heartbeat. The poor chap, he probably thought I was interested in his line of work. I didn't have the heart to tell him the truth—especially since that would have completely ruined my cover and I would have been arrested for espionage, probably beheaded too. So, I was in the Auror headquarters, looking like a studious lad with my notebook and quill in hand. I asked very politely for a cup of coffee."

Peter gasps. Remus is quite thrown off by that. Leave it to Peter to gasp in the entirely wrong part of the story. He waits for the boy to ask him something ridiculous like, "Why didn't you ask for tea, Remus?" Instead he puts his hand over his mouth and scoots beside Sirius. James looks as if he wants to throw a large stone at the back of Peter's head. Remus feels rather close to James in that moment. They are finally sharing something after six years of being mere acquaintances. He smiles and continues.

"I should have known that it wouldn't be that simple. This being my first infraction of the law, however, I made the mistake of being overconfident. The Auror returned just as my hand was on a folder classified marked "IMPORTANT", and it was obvious that I had to either run away from this man and succeed in my mission but become an international fugitive, or play the part of the innocent prat who was much too curious for his own good. Well, I know what the Good Boy would have done, but as I've told you, he was quite dead by then.

"Well, I ran my little heart out, knowing full well that I had endangered my family by this, but all I had to say about that was 'Constant vigilance.' By then I was out of the front door and well on my way home on a stolen broom. I figured that I could lose them in the storm clouds hovering just over London. Unfortunately, my task was not that easy. The Auror and his mates were on me pretty quickly. I ducked, they ducked. I swerved, they swerved. Now, Good Remus was not very good at flying, but this new and improved version is something of a force to be reckoned with. He was an absolute maniac on the broom. I must have been right over London when one of them shot at me with a jinx. I fell off of my broom into a trashbin and thought about my life good and hard. This criminal part of me was exciting, but all the things that I had sacrificed for this mission suddenly felt more important than a bit of excitement. After I recovered, I ran, but they cornered me in a small alleyway near the Leaky Cauldron. I told them that they could send me to Azkaban; I'd take it like a man. Instead, the Auror put his hands in his pocket, pulled out his wand and pointed it at me, and said…"

Remus' voice drops very low at this part so that Sirius has to lean in until their heads nearly touch, "'Son, I hate to break it to you, but you've just stolen the recipe for my wife's lemon meringue. She was counting on me making it for our anniversary tonight, if you don't mind.'"

A tense silence fills the room. Then James is finally able to laugh as long and loudly as he likes. Peter cackles and claps Sirius on the back as if denying that he too was so enthralled in Remus' story that he could scarcely breathe. Sirius looks as if he is about to punch Remus' ugly nose until it is no longer a nose and just plain ugly.

Sirius throws his head back so hard that he falls backward and hits the floor, and then he laughs a genuine, overwhelming laugh that makes Remus forget every time he's ever been jealous of the bond between James and Sirius. He laughs so hard that his lungs expand and do not deflate for a very long while. The laughter subsides only after Sirius has thoroughly frightened everyone in the room because they think he hasn't taken a breath in ten whole minutes. Remus believes that he will always remember how Sirius looks in that moment—his throat exposed, his head tipped back, and his legs in the air, bent at the knees. Sirius, he thinks, is what happiness would look like if it had a vessel in which to travel.

Sirius commands Peter to feed him chocolate. James, unsatisfied by the story, asks once more how Remus managed the map.

Remus shrugs. "I transferred all of your drawings onto a bit of spare parchment in some Portraire Potion. Then I cast security charms in all of the hallways, so that the map could identify who was walking through them."

"I liked your other story better, as ridiculous as it sounded," Peter says. James looks disappointed, just as Remus had expected, but Sirius winks at him from his place on the floor.

After Remus has eaten what seems like his weight in chocolate, he pushes all the bricks, including the one on the bed, into the center of the room where the rest of their treasure is piled. Gluttonous as he's been, Remus has to crawl over to the four-poster and pull himself up by the sleeping bag he's put over all the dusty bedclothes.

He's not feeling tired in the least, but he closes his eyes anyway. He is not surprised when he feels the bed sag underneath someone else's weight. He first thinks it is Peter, who is properly buzzed but still not drunk. But this person who now lies next to him smells of wet dog and generic soap, a smell that is likely only attractive to other boys because it is, in essence, what True Boys smell like. Sirius has never been one to wear cologne, much because conventional dating tactics such as dressing up and wearing cologne only ruin the charm that Sirius Black possesses.

Remus smiles as though he has made a funny joke that does not quite warrant laughter. Sirius reaches out and touches his lip gently.

"You've got chocolate all over your mouth," he explains in a dreamy voice.

"Well, that makes perfect sense since I've just eaten plenty of chocolate."

"Don't be wise with me, Remus. You're lucky that I am not stumbling over myself to punch your hideous nose into your head."

"Are you this sweet with all the boys?"

"Only with the ones I love. James over there knows just how sweet I can be. Why, just the other day I complimented his arse." Sirius voice drops very low, conspiratorial even, as he says to Remus, "I don't have the heart to tell him that Evans doesn't like a man with a taut arse as much as she likes a man with a prefect's badge. When she does profess her undying love to you, mind you don't gloat about it. In fact, don't talk about it at all. Disappear with the girl and save yourself the beheading. I would have to help poor James because what an awful thing to do, Moony! Going after your best mate's love."

"Lily only talks to me to discuss wrong-doing and good books. She's a bit of a voracious reader, you know? The cleverest witch of her age, anyway. I think she wants to kiss me as often as she wants to kiss James, which is to say—"

"—that she absolutely never wants to kiss you. In fact, not only does she never think of kissing you but she never thinks of you at all. She thinks of dung beetles more than she thinks of you. Sorry to hear it, bloke. The lot of you would have made beautiful, red haired, ugly-faced werewolf babies."

"I'm not too heartbroken. I don't fancy redheads half as much as I made her believe. In fact, I think I fancy that delightful Indian girl in Ravenclaw." Remus still has his eyes closed, but he feels Sirius tense beside him. "Of course, she's dating Kingsley Shacklebolt and thinks that I have an ugly face and therefore do not deserve her attention."

"Well, Kingsley Shacklebolt isn't the kind of person you'd trip over if you're so worried about aesthetics, really."

"He's a nice bloke, very gung ho and all that. He's even a perfect gentleman."

"Are you sure it's the Indian girl you fancy?"

Remus yawns without answering and curls up with his arms tucked between his legs and chest.

"Moony, you can't fall asleep here. We have to make a mighty journey back to the castle." Remus grumbles around his three middle fingers, which he has the unattractive habit of sucking on just before he falls to sleep. Remus feels the weight shift on the bed once again as Sirius turns into a great black dog and shakes himself out luxuriously.

Padfoot nudges him in the shoulder with his face, breathing hotly on Remus' neck. Remus grumbles again when Sirius persists, and finally, Remus bites Padfoot affectionately on the nose. "Bugger the hell off, you wet-nosed mutt because I want to fall asleep right here and the only thing you can do to stop me is to carry me to the castle yourself."

Padfoot yips playfully and puts a paw to Remus' chest, scratching him affectionately. When Remus still does not move Padfoot nudges him playfully. Remus then falls off of the bed and onto the floor with a thud.

James and Peter have already climbed through the exit before Remus hauls himself onto all fours. He moves slowly, nearly toppling sideways, and Padfoot is biting playfully at Remus' arse to move him along. Finally, fed up Padfoot wriggles himself in between Remus and the floor, stands up, and burdens himself with the one hundred forty pound task of carrying his friend to their dormitory. Remus wraps his arms around Sirius' body and holds on very loosely.

The journey up the stairs is one that Sirius is sure to feel in the morning. Remus does not help at all. He did warn Sirius properly, after all; he does not feel guilty that Sirius failed to take him at his word.

Remus doesn't bother to undress before climbing into bed, and Padfoot doesn't bother to change back into a boy before he curls up next to Remus. Padfoot's snuffs his wet nose in Remus' neck, and Remus shakes his head. "I suppose you think that I owe you a good belly rub after all that, then?" Padfoot breaks into a wild grin and chews briefly on Remus' wrist to indicate which answer he prefers.

Remus puts his hand to Padfoot's stomach and rubs lazy circles into the soft fur of the dog's underbelly until he falls to sleep. Padfoot, looking pleased, lulls into his own private dream world where, completely without shame, he chases rabbits and squirrels and Slytherin around the countryside. The best thing about his dog-dreams is that his father and mother are nowhere to be seen.


	4. Chapter Three

**Saturday, November 7th, 1976 11:00 A.M**

Peter feels and thinks just as substantially as his three friends. He feels disconcerted when James and Sirius fight like cellmates, punching each other in the nose and chin before resolving the matter a couple minutes later. He gets very annoyed when Sirius rambles on and on about what a "no-good cunt" his mother is. He feels sad when the house elves make porridge for breakfast because he does hate porridge something fierce. These are thoughts any normal boy would have regarding friends and breakfast.

What surprises him is that, as far as Remus John Lupin is concerned, caring simply ceases to exist. He feels nothing for his third friend. He does not think of him, talk to him, or worry himself with Lupin unless James or Sirius insist on it. Now is one of those times, and Peter feels angry that his biscuits should be ignored solely in defense of Moony. What a load of shit.

He has spent entire weeks thinking about nothing but his feelings toward Lupin. The thoughts sometimes consume him so completely that he grumbles the wrong answer in Charms and is forced to do extra homework, which Lupin gallantly helps him complete.

He wants to understand most of all. He wants to know why he is never concerned when Lupin has had a difficulty with the full moon. He knows that, of all his friends, Lupin should be the one that he goes to for comfort. They are in the same boat. They both worship Messrs. Padfoot and Prongs, they are both second best to the people they love the most.

Then, as if the proverbial light bulb has just flickered on in his head after a long period of dormancy, he gets it. He _does_ care. He cares so much that he sees spots-blue spots outlined in red, angry, fiery spots that contend with his vision. He cares about Lupin, all right. He _hates_ Lupin. He hates Lupin because James now fights for his honor. He hates Lupin because Sirius sleeps in Lupin's bed on nights after the changes. He hates Lupin because Lupin gives expert belly-rubs that Sirius doesn't shut up about or because Lupin does all of James' homework in exchange for perfect attendance on James' part.

No, he hates Lupin because he cannot be Lupin. Neither of them could be James or Sirius. That is impossible. You are born and raised without inhibitions; you cannot train yourself to have them. You cannot train yourself to be talented, charismatic, or beautiful; you just are. Peter cannot train himself to be Sirius or James because they just are. He could at least train himself to be more like Lupin, who is scholarly and has a certain animalistic cuteness about him, even though his face is mutilated. Instead, Peter is the fourth wheel in a trio, and he hates Lupin for it.

He stands up, no longer admiring the marvelous sunshine that is already melting the thin layer of snow that managed to fall overnight. He needs to find someone to talk to, someone he knows will be more than willing to help him after Sirius' little joke on Friday night.

He finds Snape sitting on one of the walls furthest away from the most densely populated areas of Hogwarts. Trees emboss most of the stone in shadow, and Peter sees Snape only because his skin is so pale. Snape looks up from his book and gives Peter a long, evaluating sneer before he speaks. "What do you want, Pettigrew? I will not accept any more apologies from that insufferable half-breed, do you understand?"

"I-I'm not here for Lupin…" he uses the surname too comfortably aloud, and perhaps this is his ticket in with Snape. Snape quirks a brow.

"Oh, and what do you want then, Peter?" Snape can see a hint of darkness glimmer beneath Peter's irises.

Wednesday, December 1, 1976 5:43 P.M.

The movies always make choking seem so comical. A person grabs at their throat, indicating dumbly, while the others at the table laugh at how quirky his sign language is. One smartens up and performs the Heimlich maneuver, and a large piece of crepe or crab goes flying across the room to hit a bored waiter in the eye. The person then smoothes out his hair and sits down as if nothing happened. He even starts eating the offending dish as if it hadn't nearly killed him seconds before.  
The movies are nothing like real life.

Remus falls out of his chair and onto his knees very suddenly during class and vomits dark pools of chocolate onto the floor. The girl sitting next to him squeals and jumps out of the way, but not before her shoes are splattered with the sticky goop. Sirius and James look at each other across the room because they honestly do not believe that their friend is in any substantial trouble. Professor Binns does not seem to notice what is happening behind him as he draws a large diagram in the air with the tip of a ghostly finger. Remus' body heaves twice, spilling yet more vomit onto the floor. His hands are covered in it.

James reaches him first, kneeling carefully by him. "Are you going to vomit again, Moony?" he asks quietly. Remus nods just before breakfast comes splashing back. Te girl's disgusted murmurs have finally caught Professor Binns' attention.

"Well, take him to Madame Pomfrey then," the professor says before returning to his diagrams of war zones. Sirius hauls Remus up carefully by the waist. James gathers their knapsacks and belongings, glancing to Peter and Lily, who stare open-mouthed from their corner of the room.

Remus clutches Sirius' arm tightly, afraid to let go for fear he'll fall. He felt like this before once when he used his Aunt Tabitha's silver cutlery months after he'd been bitten. His entire body fights the silver like normal children would fight the flu. His temperature rises, he vomits up everything in his stomach, and he shudders. He sweats and stumbles, and depending on what part of his body he can feel, he wants to either jump into a frosty lake or a scalding bath.

On the way to the infirmary, they pass Snape in the hallway. He smirks at Remus and tosses a small vial up and down in one of his hands. "Ever wonder what happened to the werewolf that swallowed silver?" he asks conversationally. James looks up when he hears the voice, Sirius snarls, and Remus lunges at Snape with sudden animosity that is unfortunately not enough without energy behind it.

Snape's eyes widen as he is knocked on his back, but he relaxes when he realizes that Remus is too weak to hurt him. Sirius snatches the vial from his hand and hauls Remus up by his arm. "Come on, Moony. We've got to get to Pomfrey." Remus crawls up the stairs, using the balustrade as a crutch to prevent himself from falling.

Snape leans back against the banister with his hands crossed over his chest. He is smirking like the git that Sirius knows he is. He does not need to say anything slimy and disgusting. He only needs to smile, and Sirius abandons his attempt to help Remus to the infirmary and turns violently on Snape.

"Gee," Snape utters in a manner like that of a naughty Fifties schoolboy pretending to be innocent, "did I do that?"

Sirius pulls Snape up by his hair and pinions him against the banister. He smashes the vial next to Snape's face. Splinters of glass dig into the skin of his palms, stinging sharply. "If you ever pull one of these stunts again, I will kill you. Do you understand me, Snivellus?" He grabs a handful of Snape's greasy hair and uses it to fling him down the stairs, then runs two steps at a time to catch up with Remus and James, who has taken over as the human crutch.

Friday, December 24, 1976 1:00 P.M.

Remus comes downstairs clutching a towel around his waist. He opens the door just a crack and peers through to see Sirius on the doorstep, grinning like a maniac. An aviator's helmet presses his hair flat on his head and goggles are looped around his neck. Remus does not bother to hide his confusion as he throws the door wide open; he simply flattens himself against the wall so that Sirius can pass. Sirius trudges in, boots and clothes heavy from the rain, and stares around the room

Remus attempts to look casual as he leans against the doorjamb. Sirius has seen him in only a towel before, however begrudgingly on Remus' part. Remus crosses his arms over his chest and looks down at Sirius.

"Not that it isn't a pleasant surprise, Sirius, but how did you get here? I thought you and the Potters were going to Germany for Christmas."

"I've just returned from Germany. We spent a few days before Christmas, and Prongs couldn't help but give me my present a bit early. He bought me the most wonderful motorbike! He wasted half of his savings on it. I couldn't believe it. I plan on taking you everywhere on that motorbike until the day one of us dies. It will be the official transportation of the Marauders."

"How long are you going to be here, then?"

Sirius is slightly offended that he is being grilled for doing something kind. He knows that Mr. Lupin will be dealing with Remus' sick aunt in Prague for the holidays, leaving Remus by his lonesome in a house too full of broken memories to function on a comfortable level. Sirius stands with a huff. He squishes his way into the living room and traces a finger over the photo albums sitting on the shelves. He looks idly down at his finger, now dusty.

"Well, come upstairs and get changed into some dry clothes," Remus finally says. "You're getting water all over the carpet."

Remus starts up the stairs two paces ahead of Sirius because he wants to get a room to himself while changing. He's never liked being completely naked, not even if he's the only person in the room. Sirius barges into the room just behind him anyway, and Remus resorts to dressing in the closet.

"Your mirror isn't as charming as the one at school is. It hardly speaks at all," Sirius says. Remus is honed onto his every sound. He can hear the sloshing as Sirius changes into a festive holiday jumper and a pair of old jeans.

"Muggle mirrors don't talk. How many times must I explain that to you?"

"I'm staying with you for the rest of holidays," Sirius says through a yawn.

Remus sighs. Sirius has always changed the subject if he's not interested enough. Their fight over the differences between Muggle and magical innovations often took entire days to sort through back when they first met. Now, Sirius just changes the subject.

"You don't have to. I'm sure I'll bore you to absolute madness with my little rituals around here. And I know how you hate a quiet house."

Remus comes out of the closet and sits on his bed. Sirius plops down next to him and hooks an arm around his neck.

"Well, your father isn't here, so we'll turn up the radio and make an absolute mess of the place. We'll even be rebellious and use mismatched ornaments on the Christmas tree. Can you imagine what the neighbors will think?"

"We'll be banned from Christmas forever. Never mind apologizing. We might as well use last year's wrapping paper to package everything. We're as good as denied all future happiness on Yule," Remus retorts, but despite his words he sounds genuinely pleased. Sirius can tell that Remus appreciates the company, even if he refuses to admit it. "And Sirius?"

"Hm?" Sirius says, already bored and getting restless. He wants James' mother to beat rugs on the back porch all afternoon in preparation for a long list of Potters to arrive at Godric's Hollow. He wants to hear Mr. Potter singing festive tunes while Mrs. Potter forces handfuls of stuffing into the rear end of a giant turkey. He wants fat aunts to pinch his cheeks as if he is their true nephew and to be lost amid a sea of green wrapping paper and red ribbon. Instead, he gets a boy in a cardigan-a boy who still pretends his body is nothing worth looking at, when everyone who has seen him shirtless knows just how kind his werewolf metabolism has been to the body underneath the ugly clothing.

"I am not going anywhere near your motorbike."


	5. Chapter Four

**Saturday, December 25th, 1976 5:00 P.M.**

The grandest gravestone in the cemetery belongs to Mary Constance Lupin, beloved mother, wife, and daughter. Mr. Lupin chose a wonderful angel tombstone, beautifully etched down to each ripple in her gown and each star ornament in her crown. The face is one that his mother would have appreciated-serene and inviting, like the face of someone you'd want to have a conversation with if you saw her on the Underground.

Remus kneels and sweeps the snow off of the block of stone near the angel's sandaled feet so that he can trace his mother's name. This is a habit of his that he scarcely considers now. He developed it when he was very young because he was so worried that he would forget her, and though he hasn't, he remains loyal to the task.

"We were visiting my Aunt Ernestine in Romania," he says quietly to Sirius, who is sitting on top of a nearby tombstone examining his nails. "I was raised in a conventional Muggle household. Werewolves, vampires-the legends were as good as that, folklore invented by the locals to boost tourism. I knew that I could fly on a broom, which made things interesting, but I was six. How could I understand the vastness of our world at that age if I was brought up to believe it was all farce?"

He traces his mother's name in the snow. He is not too naïve and realizes that she will never come back, but little things such as these make him feel as if he's at the kitchen table, drunk on her smell.

"The night we arrived in Romania Mum took me to the park that she saw on the drive up. It was about two blocks away from the house we were staying in. Mum challenged me to a contest to see who could swing over the top of the swing set first. Well, neither of us won that, so she and I challenged one another to see which of us could go down the slide the most number of times. My mother loved to slide with me. I would sit in front of her, and she would hold me around the waist and we'd do that all day long sometimes. It sounds so small, but I remember these things. I can still smell her perfume."

Remus laughs bitterly and looks up. Sirius climbs down from his perch atop the gravestone. He kneels on the grave next to Mrs. Lupin's and stares at Remus, quietly mesmerized. The snow wets his jeans in large, wet circles around his knees, but he hardly feels the cold. Remus is all that exists right now.

"The thing came out of nowhere. My mother saw it before I did, but there was really no time to react. I was closer-it got a good chunk out of my shoulder before my mum could distract it. She ran through the thicket behind the park to lure it away from me. I heard her screaming, but I wasn't sure if it was because she was trying to get its attention or because she was frightened. I chased after her, but it was too late by then. The creature had gone, but not before leaving its mark on my life. I heard a howl, and he must have heard it too because he didn't come back after me."

"My mother was so beautiful down the very last breath she took. It wasn't one of those romantic scenes that they play in the movies. She didn't get to whisperI I love you/I and she didn't get to smile serenely before she passed. The snow around her was red. Her hair was damp with blood, and her stomach… The thing had no mercy. It ripped her apart even before she had the time to pull her wand."

Sirius suddenly feels the cold and shudders. He does not like imagining Remus as a six-year-old lying in the warmth of his dying mother's blood. He refuses to accept it as a viable excuse for Remus' drab personality, but he can understand why Remus felt obligated to grow up so quickly that his body is here, awkward and clumsy, trying to catch up with the rest of him.

"When you're six, you don't understand things like that, Sirius. At that age, you only know that you have enough blood in your body to soil a bandage. Mother and Father are invincible. They have all the answers to the problems of the world, all the cures to disease. Death is a quiet little visitor that sneaks up on your parents in the middle of night and sees you with your head upon your mother's breast and decides that it isn't time. Even when it is time, Death is sensitive and he lets them say that they love you once more before taking their souls off to a magnificent paradise. What a crock of shit, huh?"

Sirius wants to say something deeply profound. He wants to say something comforting to the one person who he feels that he should protect above all else. In lieu of empty words and dialogue cluttered with clichés about death he looks down and nods slowly.

"They found me curled up next to her the following morning. I was pretty close to dying myself. I had lost a lot of blood, not to mention I was lying in the snow all night. By then the werewolf side of me was already claiming the boy side of me, and it's so ironic to think, even now, that my curse was all that could have saved me. After that Dad lost the fire in him, and I failed to develop any fire of my own. I know my own father thinks I'm soulless. He sees you and what boys should be like, and then he sees his son-an empty shell of a boy. He would never tell me this to my face, of course, but it's there in his eyes nonetheless."

Remus pushes his arm across his face to wipe the tears out of his eyes. His nose is beginning to run and he could care less. Remus leans his head up and presses his forehead into the curve of the angel's outstretched palm. This is another habit of his that fails to die. He feels connected to his mother if only for a moment, and this keeps him going for another year.

Sirius crabwalks over to Remus and nuzzles his ear gently with the tip of his nose. "Thank you for telling me," is all he can think to say, and even that sounds inappropriate after such a lengthy retelling of the most intimate secret Remus has ever kept.

"I remember her apart from what I see in photographs. She had these tiny little freckles on her neck that looked like a vampire bite. I used to poke them as she fed me. Her eyes were nothing like I'd ever seen before. They were so blue. You could see the universe in them."

"How'd she ever fall for a guy like your father?" Sirius questions quietly after a long pause.

"My father might surprise you, Padfoot. He used to be very charismatic. He was a door opening, swing dancing, sweet-talking boy that fell for a woman who was totally against what his religion taught him. He was raised Catholic, and they never told me how he settled on the idea of her being a witch. Knowing my mum, she turned his teacup into a telephone as he idly mentioned that he needed to phone his mum. She wasn't very subtle."

Sirius nods and eases his hand underneath Remus' jumper, resting it against the small of his back. Remus appreciates the gesture more than he could possibly vocalize. Remus takes in a sharp breath and exhales almost immediately. His entire stomach breaks into goose bumps, and he turns to face Sirius.

"Let's get out of here," Sirius says. Remus does not object.

---

Remus sits on the counter, kicking his bare feet against the cupboard while Sirius completely butchers his mother's recipe for marinara sauce. The bottle of wine that Sirius pours in makes the sauce too thin, and the half wedge of Parmesan cheese that Sirius grates into the pot as a result of the wine gives the sauce the consistency of sludge. It's all very endearing, really, but Remus refuses to eat the sauce. Instead he shoves bits of French bread into his mouth so that he can politely decline dinner due to an overload of carbohydrates.

Remus goes into the living room to lay in the makeshift fort he and Sirius created the day before. Every duvet, sleeping bag, and pillow in the house has been tucked sloppily underneath two levitating sheets, and the Christmas tree lights cast shadows on the sides of the fort. Sirius follows after him-having given up on the pasta-with a bottle of spiced rum and the other loaf of French bread.

"The sauce isn't so bad, really. It just isn't good."

"You weren't raised to cook."

"I was raised to hate half-breeds. I rebelled against that, why not try to cook?"

"Do you want me to be logical and lateral, or would you prefer I just say that I haven't the faintest and ask you for a bit of bread?"

"The latter sounds more appealing, but the former would give us something to talk about."

"I haven't the faintest. Please, pass me the bread, will you?" Sirius passes him the bottle of rum instead.

"You know, I actually like how easy this option is. You should consider it in the future."

Remus grabs the bottle by the neck and brings it to his lips without hesitation. He knocks back maybe four mouthfuls before lowering the bottle onto his knee. Sirius lies back on Remus' pillow and looks up at the ceiling. Remus looks at the contents of the bottle and assesses the situation: does he want to get pissed or does he want to spend Christmas wallowing in his own self-pity?

Ten minutes later, the bottle is three-quarters empty, and Sirius declares that Remus is finished for the night. Remus takes two more urgent gulps of alcohol before handing the bottle back to Sirius.

"Are we drunk?" Sirius says with an amused smile.

"Just a little warm." Remus smiles and lies down on his side. He is a quiet drunk, more likely to read poetry aloud than smash a chair over someone's head.

Sirius caps the bottle and rolls it across a pink pillow and out of the tent. He hears it smash and vows that he'll clean it up later when Remus is not looking quite so pleasant.

"A little?" he asks.

"A smidge, even," Remus replies and indicates with his thumb and index finger just how big a smidge is—three inches, by the looks of it.

"Drunk enough to shag a whore or drunk enough to shag your best mate?"

"Is the whore a female?"

"Naturally, yes."

"What about my best mate?"

"He is a boy."

"Most 'hes' are boys, Padfoot."

"Oh, do shut up, Moony."

"Yes, master." Remus rolls heavily over onto Sirius, face pressed against Sirius' neck. Sirius feels the outline of Remus' smile on his neck and grins. The smell of alcohol is overpowering, but it's a smell that Sirius has always found pleasant. Remus' eyelashes ghost against the small expanse of flesh behind his ear.

"Only you would be selfish enough to get drunk in the first ten minutes and leave your guests to fend for themselves while you pass out."

Remus pulls away, trying to prove how not drunk he is, but he fails admirably at the task. His words are subtly garbled, and he talks very slowly. "Oh, don't tell me this wasn't part of your plan? You get me boozed up, snog me shamelessly until I pass out, perhaps press your knee into my raging hard-on and get me to gasp all nicely for you, then you sneak upstairs and wade through my history to find out more about your mysterious Moony."

Sirius strokes the shadow on Remus' cheek gently and whispers right into his ear, "Is that what you want?"

"Something tells me that I have absolutely no say in the matter, Sirius."

"You're right. I am going to take advantage of my drunken best mate, and he has no say in the matter because he is drunk."

"Will he be kissed?"

"Oh, thoroughly."

"And made to gasp?"

"Most definitely."

"Will his shirt be removed?"

"Undoubtedly."

"What if he's afraid?"

"What has he got to be afraid of?"

"This is the first time he and his friend have confronted this…thing between them. He is afraid that things will change for the worse. He doesn't want his friend to avoid him and make excuses not to be alone in a room with him. He doesn't want to sleep alone the nights after the full moon. He doesn't want the proverbial wedge to be driven between them."

"What if that was a sacrifice he'd have to be willing to make? What if he could not have one without losing the other?"

Sirius' hand is becoming daring. He walks two fingers down Remus' side and stops at his stomach, wiggling his fingers between the holes in Remus' hand-knit sweater.

"He would choose friendship over all, I think. He could settle for fantasies of long kisses and secret touches underneath the breakfast table as long as it meant that his friends were there always."

In protest of Remus' doubt Sirius slides his hand up the inside of Remus' thigh and kisses his ear gently. "What if they don't have to sacrifice anything? What if they've been this way all along and it's merely a natural progression?"

"If he was positive…"

"Ah, fuck it all, Remus."

There is only one negative result of this situation-losing Sirius forever-but he has a feeling that he'll lose Sirius no matter what happens next. If he allows himself to be seduced Sirius will become sparse. Remus has seen it before. Sirius is never with the same girl twice unless she is particularly pleasing in one way or another. If he quits the actions mounting up to this moment will hover between them, acting as both a barrier and a reminder of what could have been but never was. Remus wants to shout at the cosmic humor of it all. The one person he is destined to love, whether because of circumstance or genuine adoration, is the one person he is destined to lose.

"Do you want a blowjob?" Remus asks in a quiet voice.

"Not from you, no," Sirius replies in the same subdued tone.

"Shall I give you a good jerk?"

"No."

"Then what do you want from me, Sirius?"

"Nothing, Remus. Absolutely nothing."

Remus turns around and looks at him. An idea is beginning to form in his head despite the alcohol. It curls like smoke around the part of his brain where logic lives, and he thinks he begins to understand the wonderful conundrum that is Sirius Black. It only took alcohol to get it.

Remus realizes that it is not the actual reciprocation of pleasure that Sirius wants. Sirius could walk down the street and find someone to fuck him at the drop of a hat. He does not need the bickering that comes with trying to get into Remus' trousers. And the sexual tension is only a small fraction of the problem. Sirius creates sexual tension with every person he encounters. If one looks closely enough, sexual tension undoubtedly exists between Sirius and Dumbledore. Sirius is just a sexually driven being.

What is unique to their situation, his and Sirius', Remus thinks, is Remus himself. Sirius wants to be his first. Sirius wants to be the first to show Remus what a kiss is, the first to touch him, the first to show him what an orgasm is. He wants to be sure that Remus will never forget him because he will be permanently branded on Remus' memory. Every orgasm after the one that Sirius gives him will be compared to his first, and every kiss after Sirius' will be compared to his first, just like every friend that Remus gains is compared to Sirius and every bond forged is compared to the one that he and Sirius share. Remus understands this now as never before, if only because he's utterly shit-faced.

He removes his shirt angrily in a way that screams, "I'm yours, are you fucking happy?" Sirius nods slowly; he knows exactly what Remus means by the gesture. Remus is sitting on his heels, hands on his thighs, just waiting for Sirius to do something.

Sirius leans up quickly and kisses Remus so hard that they both fall backward. The kiss is all consuming, and Remus cannot help but bask in its warmth and comfort. He feels safe and hot. He pulls away to collect himself, to assure himself that this is all real. Opening his eyes he stares up at Sirius, who is open-mouthed and frenzied, still kissing air. Deep inside of him Remus feels a change. Things are always changing where Sirius is involved. Even now as Sirius finally realizes that he is no longer being kissed back.

Slightly annoyed, Sirius leans in once more, and the rest is history.

**Thursday, December 30, 1976 9:00 A.M.**

Remus muses that the last five days have been like a honeymoon. While nothing more than superficial explorations of each other's bodies have occurred-kissing, stroking, and a perfectly placed knee between Remus' thigh-it seemed that they could not stop touching each other, as if through kisses a gravitational pull was created between the two of them. Sirius would sit down next to Remus and stroke his thigh as they watched reruns on television. Remus would stick his hand inside of Sirius' coat pocket and hold his hand as they walked to the market. They would both steal kisses from each another whenever possible...like now.

Remus sits atop the counter, banging his bare feet against the cupboard, wearing only his boxers, while Sirius leans over and sucks on his neck. Remus wraps his legs around Sirius' waist and splays his hand across the back of Sirius' head.

"You're absolutely insatiable," Sirius whispers through a smile.

"You're the one who opened Pandora's box, you prat."

"I now see the error of my ways and vouch never to touch you again so that you may overcome your addiction."

"I'm sorry to tell you this, monsieur, but this monster you've created is your responsibility."

"And, you were the one who was afraid that we'd change for the worse?"

Remus nodded slowly, frowning. "I still am. I'm waiting for it to happen. I'm waiting for it to get weird and awkward. I'm waiting for you to make up some excuse to leave the room because you can't stand to be alone with me."

"Ever the glowing optimist, I see."

"Kiss me again, and we'll see what we can do about that."

Sirius pushes the pan of burnt French toast off of the range and turns off the stove, all with Remus' legs wrapped securely around his middle. Remus leans his head down slightly to meet Sirius' mouth, which fits over his as if it was meant to be there. A roaming hand inches up the inside of Remus' bare thigh, and gentle fingers ghost along invisible lines practically burned into Remus' skin by now. Remus relaxes against the cabinetry behind him when Sirius' mouth begins roaming gradually downward, stopping to pay a little attention to Remus' peaked nipples. Just two more parts of Remus that Sirius' mouth fits perfectly over. Sirius' mouth eventually finds its way back over Remus', and the kiss that ensues lasts just long enough to shatter a few of Remus' insecurities.

Such is the scene that confronts Mr. John Lupin as he enters the kitchen, luggage still in hand, after returning from a long visit to his dying sister's.


End file.
